The Talk
by Peradan
Summary: Mr Gardiner and Mr Darcy subject themselves to a friendly chat about marriage.


Mr Gardiner was quite content. In his dream, he was at Pemberley, and enjoying his nephew's well-stocked stream. That his visit was planned for December, and trout were scarce on the ground -- or the water -- at that time of year was entirely irrelevant. Then, in the manner of dreams, it shifted without warning and he was enjoying a pleasant interlude with his wife, still at Pemberley. It was snowing, but neither felt it. At that point, a purple monstrosity appeared. Beneath the swaths of violet and lavender, the unknown woman bore a certain resemblance to Darcy. She declared, "I am most displeased! Edward. Edward. Edward!"

Mr Gardiner was trying to discover why Lady Catherine de Bourgh was using his Christian name when he woke up. His wife was shaking him. _"Edward."_

"Margaret, what is it? I was having a wonderful dream. At least, it _was_ wonderful, before . . ." Already the memory was fading, and he was left with only a fleeting sense of humiliation.

"Edward," Mrs Gardiner said urgently, "you have to talk to Mr Darcy."

"Very well, I shall talk to him. But there was no need, really. You may not have noticed, but we talk every time he calls. Excellent fellow." He yawned and rolled over, intending to go back to sleep. _Fish_, he thought vaguely.

"No. I mean, he _is_, but . . . Edward, you have to _talk_ to him."

_"Talk," _Mr Gardiner repeated. "My love, how is that different from just 'talking' to him?"

"About the wedding night, of course," she said impatiently.

Mr Gardiner was abruptly very awake. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"For Lizzy's sake."

"Margaret, you cannot possibly be serious. Do you actually mean me to discuss the . . . the . . . conjugal relations with a man not ten years my junior?"

"Well," said Mrs Gardiner, "you are married, and he is not."

"He is nine and twenty," Mr Gardiner replied dismissively, "I am certain he knows what he is about."

"He is _eight_ and twenty, and . . . Edward, I think he has some very strange ideas. I want you to clarify things, just to be certain."

Mr Gardiner blinked up at the ceiling. "What do you mean, 'strange ideas'?"

"Lizzy told me that . . . well, she was a little unhappy that he is so reserved with her. Not in manners, but . . ." She coughed. "In the physical expression of his feelings for her."

"Thank heavens. At least I can trust _one_ of them. I have to watch Bingley like a hawk."

"Well, apparently they talked about it."

"Is there anything those two _don't_ talk about?" Mr Gardiner pulled the pillow over his head. "Fine. I'll talk to him."

"Them both."

Mr Gardiner was already sliding back into sleep. "Aggh," he mumbled.

---

"I . . . I beg your pardon, sir?"

Mr Gardiner and his prospective nephew both blushed fiercely. "This is all my wife's doing," he said. "She insisted upon it. She is talking to Elizabeth even as we speak."

Darcy blinked, turning redder. "Ah . . . I see. And is Bingley receiving this . . ." He coughed -- "additional guidance?"

"Yes, but only as a matter of . . . only briefly. I suspect my wife believes that . . . a young man of his . . . easy, impulsive, affectionate disposition will . . . er . . . likely know what he is about." Mr Gardiner was proud to have reached the end of that sentence with a straight face.

"I see," Darcy repeated, regaining his composure and complexion.

"Naturally, I am certain that a man in your, er, position, will also, er . . ."

"Know what I am about," Darcy supplied.

"Yes. Your, er, situation in life being what it is."

"My situation in life?" Darcy's eyes narrowed slightly. "I fear I do not entirely understand you, sir. That is to say, I hope I do not understand you. Did you mean, sir, that all men of my -- 'situation in life' -- are debauched libertines, or must have been at some time?"

For the first time, Mr Gardiner understand his niece's early dislike of her betrothed. Honourable and usually agreeable as he might be, the man was also quite prickly when displeased. "I did not say that, Mr Darcy. I understand, however, that certain standards . . . that what is considered acceptable, even respectable, is quite different among the circles in which you move."

Darcy lifted his head. "With all due respect, sir, the principles of aristocrats -- that is what you mean, is it not? -- are no more uniform than those of tra -- merchants."

"Well," Mr Gardiner said hastily, "it hardly signifies. This is just a formality, you understand. I promised my wife that I would talk about it to you, and I intend to do so." _Even if it kills me_, he thought. "I am certain you already know well enough -- well, I have seen that you love Lizzy, and I am certain you will be kind. That should be enough, don't you think?"

"Sir, I . . . you misunderstand," Darcy said, more civilly. "I -- I would welcome some -- clearer -- advice."

Mr Gardiner's eyes widened. "What?"

"Please do not make me repeat it. It was difficult enough the first time."

Mr Gardiner gulped. He had never dreamed that he might actually have to -- he snuck a look at the other man. Darcy had turned scarlet, again, and his eyes were fixed on the floor. "I . . ." What was he supposed to say? "I am not certain what you already are . . . aware of. That is, surely . . ." Mr Gardiner shut his eyes and thought of his dear niece. Then he poured himself a large glass of wine and gulped it down quickly. "You must be aware of the mechanics, surely?"

Darcy looked somewhat amused. "Of course."

"And, uh . . . Lizzy is . . . the first time can be painful for a lady. You must . . ." _Dear Lord, what did I do to deserve this?_ "If she is -- also, er, eager, it will be less so. If you are -- if the two of you indulge in . . . behaviour that was unacceptable during your engagement, but that is still not part of the actual act . . . that should . . . help her. Erm, do you understand what I am speaking of?"

"Not entirely."

Mr Gardiner stared at him despairingly. Darcy was still studiously examining the rug. "You cannot be entirely -- er -- chaste, can you?" he demanded.

"Well . . ." Darcy considered. "No. Yes. That is, not exactly, but mostly."

_Not **exactly**? How can one be **mostly** chaste?_ "Er . . . just talk to her. And -- " Mr Gardiner shut his eyes as terrible vivid images paraded through his mind -- "touch her. Let her touch you. Make her tell you what she likes. All the rules of propriety, you understand, have nothing to do with this? You and your, er, your wife may do whatever you like, as long as you both like it."

"Oh."

"And, Lizzy being so . . . fearless, sometimes it might be better simply to . . . go along with her suggestions. Let her, er, take the lead if she wants. It can be . . ." Mr Gardiner whimpered internally. "You need not feel confined to, er, conventional, er . . . er, ah, situations."

"Oh?"

"You will understand better, er, afterwards. But you should talk. That is the most important thing. Margaret always says so. And Lizzy will want to talk, I am certain. And one one other thing."

"Oh?"

"You are quite a bit larger than Lizzy. She is just a slip of a girl and you are very, ah, tall." Mr Gardiner coughed. "You should -- afterwards -- if you have -- not crush her. If you understand?"

"I understand," said Darcy, looking faintly ill. He turned to face the door, looking slightly desperate. "Ah . . . I shall just go fetch Bingley, it would be quite unjust were he to miss such an . . . opportunity." He fled. 


End file.
